Come Get Your Licks
by nericearren
Summary: It's all ice cream, pools, and sun for Ichigo and Rukia this summer, until stupid things like feelings threaten their close relationship. Is love really something to risk when it means losing your best friend? Is it okay for a girl to be the center of your world, when you didn't want her in your world at all? Can this description get any cheesier?
1. Scowl

Ichigo lifts me from behind, his big hands easily encircling my waist as he swings me to the ground.

"Hey!" I protest, trying for a second to cling to the window ledge a little longer. He's too strong for me, though, and my sandaled feet hit the ground. I glare up at him. "What?"

"You shouldn't spy on people!" he chides, scowling down at me. I swear, it would kill him to smile.

"I _wasn't_ spying." I say, with as much dignity as I can muster. "I was just . . ." I fold my arms, stalling. "Creatively participating."

Ichigo raises one eyebrow. "Creatively . . .?"

"Participating." I finish for him.

"In other words, spying." he turns, heading down the sidewalk as if his sole purpose coming to see me was to pry me away from that window.

"Hey!" I call after him, frustrated. "Hey!" I run after him, and when I catch up, I give the belt of his pants a hard tug. It doesn't take much for the already baggy, worn low jeans to slide to the ground.

"RUKIA!" Ichigo bellows, going down hard. I snicker. "My bad."

"I would almost believe you if you didn't look so damn happy." he gripes, struggling to his feet and pulling up his pants. "What are we, in sixth grade?"

"It's your own fault for being you." I jut my chin out, knowing I both look and sound petulant.

"That doesn't even make-" he gives up, as he usually does, rolling his eyes and letting his sentence trail off into a muttered stream of gibberish about Soul Reapers, girls, and the instability of combining them into one being. He jams his hands in his pockets, jeans sinking down another inch, revealing tanned skin between his belt and the hem of his sleeveless shirt. I look away, clasping my hands behind my back.

"So, since you don't want to join in my espionage, let's go somewhere." I suggest. "Big brother and Urahara will probably be talking for a while."

"Hold the phone-" Ichigo cranes his neck towards the window, suddenly interested in what I was looking at. "That droopy-eyed guy with the weird hair is here?"

I assume he means my brother, though the description could fit either of the men holding conference inside. "Yes. Something about my . . . that is, about the Hogyoku."

He glances between me and the building, then sighs deeply and starts to move away. "Come on. We'd better not snoop. I'll buy you an ice cream cone."

"Yay!" I can't help skipping as I trail after him, being sure to keep up a stream of annoying commentary, from criticizing his summer wear to complaining about my own light dress. Beneath the happy banter that I dole out, though, I'm very worried about the meeting back in the shop. Actually, I'm very worried about everything, but when I'm with Ichigo it's easier to pretend that I'm not-it's, somehow, easier to laugh and joke and think like the whole world isn't about to be set on fire from the coming enemy.

"I want strawberry. Absolutely." I say when we get to the ice cream stand, then tug on his sleeve. "You hear, Ichigo? I want strawberry."

"I heard." he grumbles.

"Make it a medium."

"Okay."

"No, a large. With sprinkles. And syrup."

"Wha-whose money is it that you're spending, here?" he demands, annoyed.

"I just almost died, you know!" I remind him. "The least you can do is buy me what I want."

"I almost die every day!" he snaps back. "I don't see anyone thankin' me!"

I cross my arms. "Cheapskate."

He sticks out his tongue. "Spoiled little princess."

"Next." the server calls out listlessly, looking hot and tired from behind the counter. It's true that the sun is beating down like a punk band's drummer, and the thermometers have all given up and moved to Alaska, but could the customer service be any worse? I fan myself with my hand and stand in the cool shade of the awning as Ichigo digs out his wallet and orders two cones, strawberry, with sprinkles and chocolate syrup.

I beam at him. He scowls. "This is the last time, I swear."

"Sure, sure." I take one of the already-melting cones and dig in.

We head down the street, with some vague idea of swinging by the community pool or maybe, if we're that desperate for air conditioning, the school, licking furiously as we go. Ichigo isn't fast enough, and sticky syrup runs down his hand and wrist.

"Disgusting." I observe. And, guess what he does?

Ding-ding-ding! That's _right_. Ichigo _scowls_. I don't think he has any other faces in his repertoire-it's neutral or caveman.

"Here, let me get it." I grab his forearm without thinking, and lap up the ice cream like a cat. My cool, mature self is screaming what an idiot I am, but unfortunately, Soul Reaper Rukia is off duty and can't control her joking, pouting, creatively participating self. And, as usual when I'm with Ichigo, I'm too busy having fun to think my actions through.

He starts back when my tongue comes in contact with the underside of his wrist, but then he goes deathly still. It isn't until most of the melted ice cream is gone that I realize exactly what I'm doing. My tongue is just running over the ball of his thumb when I jerk away, sure that I've totally grossed his out.

"Whoops-sorry. I forget sometimes that you aren't . . ." the words die away as I look up at my best friend. His face is beet red, and he's pointedly staring at the sidewalk instead of me. "Ichigo? Is everything okay?" I realize that my own ice cream is starting to melt, and go to clean it up.

Ichigo jerkily grabs my wrist and does it for me, out positions changing-and I'm abruptly thrown into the world he must have just experienced. When he first licks the stream of pink syrup off of the side of my hand, I'm taken aback by the warmth-and then swallowed by it. He runs his tongue over my knuckle, and pulls back.

"Wh-you-" I stammer, knowing that I have no right to be mad when I just did the same thing. It's just-I never expected to feel this way about someone ever again, and now I do, and while the fun side of me is celebrating, the rest of me knows that this is really, really bad.

"Revenge." Ichigo says gruffly, but his teasing lacks its usual edge, and there's an underlying layer of forced lightness that ruins the effect. He brushes past me, scarfing his cone down in a few giant bites, and strides away. His legs are long-I have to trot to catch up, and by the time I have, out of breath and a little irritated, his face has returned to normal. He cuffs me upside the head- "Slowpoke!"-and smiles.

Actually smiles.

No scowling.

I smile back, finish my cone, and push away the momentary feelings I had for Ichigo. He's only my best friend. Our relationship is too important for such flimsy emotions-I won't be the one to let them get in the way. "Let's go swimming. It's hot." I suggest.

"Whatever. Sounds good." the furrow in his brow is back, but I remember his smile. I try not to remember how good it felt, to be the one he was smiling at.


	2. Notice

Rukia covers my eyes from behind. "Don't you dare look." she orders.

I sigh. Why does she have to be so damn difficult all the time? "What, you want me to wear a blindfold or something?" I gripe. "It's a pool, Rukia. Everyone's in a swimsuit. Here, look." Just to prove my point, I shake off her hands and strip off my shirt, turning around. "See, now I'm half-naked, too . . ." I trail off.

And shamelessly stare.

There's a good 59% of my brain that's telling me to get it together and stop being such a pig, but-

Let me get one thing straight-I don't notice girls. I have no desire to date, kiss, or do anything with girls. It's not because I wouldn't if I could, it's because there is just too much going on in my life for me to also take up time thinking about the other gender. Maybe if I was a normal teenage boy, yes, I would spend more hours idly checking out babes and renting tuxes to go to dances and all that crap-but, not to be too blunt, I'm not a normal teenage boy, and I never have been. There's never been a girl I've been interested in as more than friends, and while I do _notice_ particularly pretty or nice girls, I rarely feel anything other than casual interest.

I've never had my stomach sit up, take attention, and run circles around my rapidly beating heart, but that's the closest I can come to describing the reaction I have when my eyes land on Rukia in a swimsuit.

It's not like she's some model perfect-she's still short, small-chested, and glaring at me-but there's just . . . something. The way the blue material sweeps around her slim neck in a halter, or pulls in to the waist that I carelessly grabbed not one hour ago.

I _notice._

"You're staring at me." she says, blunt, and then strikes a goofy pose. "Do I look that gorgeous?"

Spell broken as I remember who exactly I'm with, I throw a towel at her head. "What happened to being self-conscious?!"

Rukia laughs, takes the towel, and dances over to the locker room door, hovering, obviously waiting for me to go first. Fine. If that's how she wants it.

I growl and charge at her, catching her off guard as I plow into her waist and throw her over my shoulder. She shrieks, loud enough for the entire pool to hear, and I thrust my shoulder against the door, shoving it open and carrying her out to the pool as she pounds at my back, laughing. I'm laughing a little, too, as I make a beeline for the pool itself.

When she realizes I'm not stopping, Rukia starts to swear at me. "Ichigo, don't you dare-"

I jump in. Her voice is abruptly replaced by the sounds of water swirling into my ears, and I break the surface with her still clinging to me.

"I'm going to kill you." Deadly calm, too close to my ear for comfort. I go to shove her away, but she holds on tighter. "I can't swim, you idiot!"

"Wha-" I've been treading water for both of us, but now I almost let go. Hastily, I grab the side of the pool, guiding her hands to the concrete border. "You can't?"

"No." Much like a wet cat, she's clutching the side of the pool for dear life, holding herself up bodily, as much of herself out of the water as possible.

Unthinking, I put my hand on her lower back. "Let go." Her skin is warm under my hand, and I realize too late that familiarity of the gesture. Rukia lets go without compunction.

"Okay, now take the side with your hands." I demonstrate. "Let your legs float."

"How-" she begins.

"Relax." I order. "Kick your legs slowly to keep them up, if you have to."

She does as I say, and soon enough can easily stay afloat with only one hand holding on. I smile at her, proud despite myself. I can't help it-Rukia has taught me so much. It feels good to be able to return the favor.

"So, ready to try actual swimming?" I ask.

"Isn't that what this is?" she asks, alarmed. I gesture around to the rest of the pool. "How many people do you see hanging on to the edge of the pool like a drowning rat?"

She glares at me, and with her free hand splashes water in my direction. "Hey!" I protest, and she does it again. "Stop it!"

Again.

I tackle her once more, this time slower because of the water, and haul her away from the side. "Ahh!" she cries, panicked.

"I'm not gonna let you drown, geez!" I tell her, annoyed. "Besides, there's a lifeguard." I nod to where Ishida sits, in a tall chair shaded from the sun, looking like the tool he is with sunscreen caked on his nose and a very tight pair of Speedo shorts.

"I don't want to learn to swim!" Rukia tells me. "And that lifeguard isn't very reassuring!"

"It's okay." I growl. "I already said I won't let you-"

"I don't want to!" she insists.

"FINE!" I'm not going to force her. We drift in slow circles, Rukia holding onto my shoulders. "But you can't hang onto me the whole time."

"I won't. I'll hang onto someone else."

"Like who?"

"Like . . ." Rukia looks around. "Oh! Hi, Chad!" She waves enthusiastically, tightening her grip on me with her other hand. I look around for the first time and notice several of our friends milling around, some in the deep end, some sitting on deck chairs or at tables on the pool side. Most of them are eyeing us with expressions bordering on amusement.

"Yeah. You go annoy him." I shove Rukia towards the big guy, ignoring her flailing as she tries to make the few feet's distance herself. Chad grabs her before she goes under, and I swear he shoot me a look before he swings her out of the pool and onto the side, where she dips her legs in and looks prim. "Thank you." she says, and I can tell by the way she pitches her voice that it's more of a dig at me than anything else.

I resist the urge to flip them both the bird. I mean, come on-this really isn't my day. First Rukia goes all weird, licking my fingers and acting like Susie Sunshine, and then the whole swimsuit thing, and the swimming debacle-is the universe conspiring against me or what?

I swim laps, talk with my friends, and ignore Rukia. I get the feeling we've had a fight, but I don't even know what over, just that every time I see her I get annoyed, especially when she's chatting with some guys from another school, or jumping into the deep end, after much persuasion, into one of my buddies' arms. I also notice-while trying my best _not_ to notice-that Keigo teaches her how to swim. So he's okay to teach her and I'm not? What happened to not wanting to learn how to swim?

It rankles me, not that I would ever admit it. After about an hour, I feel my shoulders getting hot and get out, heading into the locker room to get sunscreen out of my bag. Coming back out lathered up, I feel a stab of guilt. Rukia isn't the best at being grounded in the real world-she didn't put on sunscreen when we first went out, either, and probably doesn't even know what a sunburn is. She grew up in a netherworld, after all.

I swallow my pride. "Rukia!"

She looks up, expression obvious. _I hear you but I'm not going to come._

I gesture for her to come here. She doesn't.

"Come here a second." I say, not yelling, but making it clear that I'm not asking. After another second to save face, she _slowly_ gets out of the pool and takes her sweet time coming over to me. I grab her roughly by the arm-okay, I'm still a little annoyed-and drag her into the cool, stone locker room.

"What do you want?" she snaps, struggling. "Geez, Ichigo, let go of me!" I do, but only because I'd feel like a real creep if I didn't, and I already feel overprotective and controlling, so I don't need anything else added to the list.

"Sit down." I point at the nearest bench. Rukia looks about to protest, so I seize her by the shoulders and force her down. I can tell the manhandling is rankling her-so what? She started it . . . whatever "it" is.

I squirt a palmfull of sunscreen and start rubbing it over her back, which is slightly pink. She flinches at the cold and begins to writhe uncomfortably. "What are you _doing_?" she whines.

"Sunscreen. You're burning." I say shortly, depositing another handful onto her shoulders. This time I go a little more slowly-she's redder, here, probably already burnt badly. "So," I clear my throat, not sure how to continue but with the vague idea that I should. "You seemed to be having fun with the boys out there."

"Jealous?" she tosses over her shoulder, a throwaway remark that should have directed our conversation back into the familiar zones of argument, but instead lies heavy between us, a lead weight, gaining strength the longer it sits.

"No." I say after a pause, spreading lotion down her arms. "Just curious as to why it's okay for Keigo to teach you how to swim and not me."

She squirms. "I don't have to answer that."

"No." I pull back, finished, and wipe my greasy hands on my shorts. "And I don't have to buy you ice cream or take you to the pool. But we're friends, so I do." I pause significantly.

"It's nothing." Rukia lies. "It just seemed like a bad idea, and then a good idea later, and you weren't talking to me-"

"Because you got up on your high horse about something-"

"-and so I just . . . asked someone else." she keeps her tone light, but it's almost funny how pathetic her lying is. I can see through her as easily as myself-she might as well have been me. The only thing I can't see is why she's acting like this.

"Whatever. It's not like I care." I tell her, and wonder if she can see through my lies, too. "But I would have appreciated the truth."

Rukia turns. "Ich-" she starts, then falters. "Never mind."

"Yeah. I figured." I grab my bag and throw all of my stuff into it, shoving towel, clothes, sunscreen, all haphazardly, jerkily. Not caring. Being fine. "See you at home."

"Ichigo!"

"Have fun with your friends." Oh, I know I'm being dramatic. I know I'm acting like the world's biggest loser, and it's not cool for a guy to admit that he has hurt feelings-I know, but still I stalk out like the most ticked-off girlfriend in the world, theatrically shoving the door open and sailing away. Yeah, it's stupid, it's irrational, and it's admitting that I care-but I can't stop myself. I _am_ hurt, I _am_ angry, and for some unfathomable reason, I'm pissed at every guy at the pool who so much as _looked_ at Rukia.


	3. Can't

_[A/N-sorry, this chapter kinda sucks, to use the technical term. It's more of a bridge between last chapter and the next, so nothing happens except a lot of angst . . . which I guess this whole story is. Anyway, enjoy!]_

I hug my knees to my chest, watching my friends play volleyball in the shallow end but not really wanting to participate. I know that I hurt Ichigo, and the worst part is that I can't even tell him why-not when I myself don't really know. There was something too . . . close, about being in the water with him, our bare skin pressed together, his heartbeat, his shoulders-him. Playing. Happy. My mind keeps throwing up random questions like how many girls he's tossed around like that, how many friends he's bought ice cream for-it's so petty, it makes me cringe. What does it matter if he's had a thousand best friends before me?

We aren't even that close.

The minute I think it, I know it's a lie. Ichigo is-well, not my best friend, but . . . something. My partner. My roommate, for a short time. Something unnameable, but "not close" isn't the right way to describe it. The real problem is that we _are_ close.

"Is it okay if I sit here, Kuchiki?" someone asks, waaay too politely to be one of Ichigo's friends. I look up-sure enough, it's Orihime.

"Sure." I shrug, pulling my towel off of the chair next to mine and moving my unread book on the table closer to me to give her room. She sits down, fussing with her beach wrap until it's arranged just right over her legs. I've always wanted to be a girl like Orihime-pretty, sweet, girlish but easy to talk to. A good friend, but able to transition into girlfriend status, too. No matter what, I come off too cold or abrasive to be anything like her, and any attempt I have at being feminine usually scares boys off more than attracts them-something I'm sure Byakuya is glad of. I've been told that I'm intimidating.

"I was wondering . . ." Orihime begins, glancing nervously at me, then fidgeting with her wrap again. I resist the urge to still her hands-if she has one bad point, it's her timidity. Maybe if she spoke her mind once in a while, Ichigo-idiot that he is-would have noticed her feelings and they'd be going out by now.

The thought brings me unexpected disquiet.

"Yes?" I finally prompt, when it becomes clear that whatever she was wondering is not going to come forth on its own.

Orihime blushes. "I know this is a forward question, and it's none of my business-but-" she halts, then takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye for the first time. The expression on her face is serious, almost comically so. "Are you and Ichigo dating?"

I almost ask her to repeat herself.

I blink.

Thoughts come very jerkily.

I think I might actually be shocked.

Just from an untrue question asked by an unsure _teenager_.

I blink again.

"No."

Orihime sighs, visibly relieved, then giggles self-consciously. "Geez, I must seem so weird to you! Not to mention kind of over-protective and all that, but . . . well, sorry. It's just that, earlier, the two of you . . . but I guess you're always like that . . . must be just in my mind . . . not that it's _really_ my beeswax-I mean, _business_! Anyway . . . haha . . ."

She's talking, and I'm hearing, but not really comprehending.

I don't think she notices the way I'm fixated on a spot of concrete between my sandals.

Ichigo and I . . .

Ichigo and I . . .

Together. Dating.

I start to think cohesively again. My proper reaction should be that it's ridiculous, but it's not. I have to admit to myself that there was a very large part of me that wanted to say "yes", and a larger part of me that wants, right now, to do anything to wipe the happy smile off of Orihime's face.

What kind of despicable person have I become? What's with these ugly thoughts, vicious thoughts that I shouldn't want to act on? Orihime has never been anything but nice to me, if a bit stand-offish. And, yes, I know she has a crush on Ichigo so _of course_ she'll be interested in who he's dating. I used to be the same way, a long time ago, when I was a normal teenage girl.

Lord, that seems like a long time ago.

It _was_ a long time ago. I pull myself together. It was a long time ago, and there's no excuse for acting like a high school girl with a crush when I'm not. I have been through far too much to get all up in arms about-

"-Ichigo?" I tune back in to Orihime's prattle to just catch the end of her question. I can tell it was directed at me because she's looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry?" I ask weakly.

"I said, what's up with you and Ichigo?" she repeats. "You seemed to have a big fight over nothing just now."

"Oh. That." I sigh and pull my legs back up onto the chair, tucking my knees in. My toenails are painted with chipped red polish-I can't remember when they were done. Maybe at a sleepover with some friends . . .? How bizarre, to live in a world where friends are something taken for granted, where sleepovers can be forgetten or blurred together because there have been so many. The life of a normal high school girl. "I don't know." I tell Orihime. "We just . . . haven't been getting along lately."

"Oh." She doesn't seem to know what to say after that, which is good, because I don't, either. I wait for her to move on, but she stays sitting. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't dislike her, but it doesn't sit right with me to chat with her like we're best friends after what I was thinking just a few minutes ago.

I must be going crazy. Ichigo is making me crazy.

"Why do you say that?" Orihime asks. I blink. "What?"

"Why do you say that Ichigo is making you crazy?" she prompts, and I realize that, for the first time in my life, I've said something I was thinking out loud without meaning to. I didn't even know people _did_ that outside of TV shows.

"Um . . . just . . . this and that . . ." I say vaguely. "House dilemmas and clothing privileges and stuff . . ." I'm not an idiot-I do realize that I'm making about as much sense as Isshin when he's drunk. Orihime looks a little disconcerted. "I'm sorry?"

She isn't supposed to know that I'm living with Ichigo. I could just slap myself, though after what she's been through with the Soul Society and everything, I doubt my living arrangements are that big of a secret. "Uh-nothing. It's just normal friend stuff, I guess." I lie, lie, lie. Smile. Chit-chat about homework neither of us has done and movies we want to see. After twenty or so minutes, Tatsuki comes over and collects her friend, the two of them heading to the snack bar. I politely declined their invitation to go.

And then I'm once again alone with my traitorous thoughts.

I pack up my bag and leave the pool, heading down the sidewalk in no particular direction. It's cooled down somewhat since this afternoon, and the sun is beginning to sink behind the treeline in the distance.

I scuff my sandals along the knobby stone of the concrete sidewalk and shiver. It's almost chilly out. The hot summer day is pretty much behind me, with only shadows remaining to remind me of the scorcher. This is my favorite time of day in the summer; the letdown period when sunburns start to prickle and sugar highs die down. This has been my first summer experiencing any of these things, and I already love it. I can't help wanting to stay here; not just for Ichigo, whom I can't imagine life without-annoying as he is, but for all my friends, and for the Kurosaki family that has adopted me as their own. I love Karakura town with its library that always has the fourth novel of Naruto checked out without fail, the park that no one visits because of the gangs that lurk there, the old pool and the shiny new school that some grandparents refuse to visit because they claim the spirits from the last school haunt that spot(they aren't all wrong on that count). I've never had a set place to call home before. Home was always in the people I surrounded myself with, people that inevitably left me or died. But whenever I'm here, I don't feel that loneliness. There's always a smiling face or a familiar shop, and it makes me feel like I've finally found somewhere to belong.

I never realized that before.

"It's getting cold." I flinch at the voice, and the rough fabric that suddenly is chafing against my slightly burned skin.

Ichigo looks down at me and shakes his head. "You have no common sense." he informs me. I gratefully pull the jacket, big enough to be a dress on me, closer around myself.

"Were you going to come home at all?" he asks, and I realize that, while I was wandering around thinking about home, the sun did set and now it's dark. "I-I didn't mean to get upset earlier." Ichigo says, sheepish. It's his way of apologizing, and I accept it without question.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Wh-pssh." he dismisses this, a little _too_ carelessly. "I wasn't hurt." Liar. I don't call him out on it-my sunburn is beginning to hurt. I'm tired.

I'm scared.

The feeling is out of place in this setting, with this person-I have never once felt fear when around Ichigo. My confidence in him is 100%, scowly, unpleasant moron that he is. But this fear isn't of him or for him; it comes from inside of me, a deep, almost dread, that lurks around my abdomen and weighs down my heart. Fear. I'm scared. I'm scared of losing this, of losing my best friend-because that's really the only way I can think of to describe him, inaccurate though it is. I'm scared of being _too_ close to him, caring about him _too_ much, because, once again, I've fallen in love with that last person in the world that I can have.

I can't have him.

There's panic, too; a fluttery, jittery, thought-scrambling thing, panic because I can't have him or maybe panic because I want to. I want that smile, that scowl, that irrepressible personality; I want to stay here and be with him.

But I can't.

I can't feel this way.

I can't.


	4. Silence

Rukia is silent as I push through the door to my house. She was silent the whole walk home, a complete 180 from her bubbly, incorrigible self this afternoon. I keep thinking that it's something to do with the swimming incident, because that's when she got all moody and unpredictable.

But, come on-I already said I was sorry! It wasn't even really my fault, and I apologized, and still she's all-I don't know, weird. When I go to take my coat from her, she jerks away, genuine alarm in her eyes, then drops her gaze and takes off the jacket, handing it to me while looking at the floor. Shameful.

The house is eerily silent-the twins are at a sleepover and Dad went out with some friends for a drink . . . or five. He doesn't usually go out for beer or anything, but I get the feeling that he's a little thrown off with Rukia officially living in the house. Yet another human reaction that I just can't figure out.

I mean, give me a break here-I'm only fifteen! I can't deal with this drama, and I don't see why I have to.

Rukia turns on the TV, something she never does when it's just the two of us, and dinner is leftovers eaten while staring at the screen and pretending nothing's wrong. After dinner, she clears the table and then disappears into Yuzu and Karin's room, shutting the door. The message is achingly clear-she doesn't want me around.

But for God's sake, _why_? I haven't _done_ anything, not that I'm aware of, and suddenly I'm mad again. It took me all afternoon to calm down and swallow my pride for long enough to go and look for Rukia, and she was okay for maybe three seconds before once again acting like-like-like she hates me.

Which can't be right.

I know we don't get along, but she can't _hate_ me. Just this morning she was licking ice cream off my hand.

My face burns at the memory. Her actions had brought to mind other uses for her tongue-namely, kissing-and I'd been so shocked that I was thinking _that_ about _her_ that I'd just . . . reacted. Maybe she thought that I thought that she liked me or something and was trying to disprove that so that things wouldn't get awkward.

If that was it, a) it was overkill, and b) THINGS ARE AWKWARD!

I resist the urge to punch a wall. Punching a wall would not be helpful. Punching a wall would hurt. Punching a wall does not solve anyone's problems. Do not punch the wall.

I slam my knuckles into the wall.

Hey, I never said I _listened_ to my own advice.

My fist breaks through the plaster like it's cardboard, and the door to the girls' room flies open as I try to wriggle my hand out of the hole.

Rukia stares at me.

I glare back, daring her to comment, and finally extract my bleeding hand from the hole. "What?" I mutter.

She opens her mouth, expression suggesting a wise comment is on its way, but then she shuts the door again, and I'm alone. There's still a door and a wall of silence between us, and now my hand hurts like the devil and there's a fricking hole in the fricking wall that Dad is going to kill me for.

Like I said, punching a wall does not solve anyone's problems. It just hurts.

I head into the bathroom for its arsenal of medical supplies. It's a little unwieldy, trying to patch up my right hand with my left.

In the middle of my sloppy treatment, the bathroom door opens and Rukia slips in. She takes the tube of ointment from me and gently but firmly guides me to the edge of the tub, where she makes me sit. She pointedly rebuffs any attempt I make to fix my own wound, carefully applying peroxide and then some kind of cream, then wrapping a flexible bandage aroun dmy knuckles.

"The paint job was ugly, anyway." she says when she's almost done, her voice soft.

"Yeah, and it was funny how the plaster just ran into my hand." I joke.

She smiles, and a million happy butterflies wake up, pattering against my rib cage. Strange. "We'll just say it was a Hollow attack."

I snort, doubting that excuse will work, and she tapes the bandage in place. "There. Done. And-Ichigo?" She's at the door already, going to be gone, one hand on the knob.

"Yeah?"

"Be more careful with yourself." Then she's gone.

And I _miss_ her.

The whole week is more of the same-Rukia is rarely home during the day, and at night when she is, she's laughing and joking with my family, ignoring me. The only time she acknowledges my presence is when she's expected to talk to me, like to ask me to pass the salt or on game night, when it's taken for granted that we'll be a team during Monopoly, which Rukia is notoriously bad at. When we're with my family, she acts normal, but on the rare occasion that we're alone, she doesn't talk. When I try to pull her aside, she ignores me or finds an excuse to be anywhere else.

It's driving me out of my head.

Rukia is the only one I can talk to about Soul Reaper stuff, and the only one I _want_ to talk to about most everything else-the more she avoids me, the angrier I get. Anger, frustration, irritation; these are all emotions she's stirred up in me before, but not even three months ago I would have thanked God most profusely if she'd ever stopped talking to me.

Now I miss the weird comments and the impromptu lectures; the awkward questions about earth stuff that I'd rather not explain, and the fun we used to have just hanging out.

It seems like forever ago.

Not only that, but it's summer, which means gathering at the pool or arcade every day, planning trips to the beach and to amusement parks, spending all my free time having fun with friends. Normally this is my favorite time of year, but not when Rukia's having the time of her life _not_ with me.

I think I'm actually jealous.

I don't _own_ Rukia; she can spend time with whoever she likes. But between her ignoring me and lavishing _more_ attention on _my_ friends than me, it's getting pretty freaking annoying.

But I can't be jealous-not even when Keigo wins her a stuffed panda bear in the claw machine or Chad has to lift her up to see the menu at McDonald's.

And, hang on-why is it only my _guy_ friends that she's with?!

This is seriously too much.

But I can't. Be. Jealous. I don't own Rukia. I can't. Be. Jealous.

I can't.

Now, remember what I said about my own advice?

"Okay, I have an idea!" Keigo announces, exactly one week to the day that Rukia started to ignore me. Not that I'm counting.

"Annnddd _I'm_ scared." Tatsuki comments, eyes glued to the pinball machine. She holds the current high score, but that never stops her from wanting to do better. She's throwing her whole body into the game, going back and forth with the flappers, while Orihime cheers her on enthusiastically. The rest of us are half-watching while lounging around the Air Hockey table. Mizuiro is explaining to Rukia the mechanics of some device in a manga series that they're both reading. Ishida is playing Frog Crossing and pretending not to be a part of the group, which he is. "Let's go to Animal Land!" Keigo goes on, as if Tatsuki hadn't spoken. "We haven't been, in, like, _forever_!"

"Yeah, since we were _nine_." This time, the sarcastic comment is from Mizuiro.

"What's Animal Land?" Rukia asks.

"It's a theme park for children." Ishida gives up on his game, which he was losing, and comes to join us. "It's just about par with your intelligence level." he adds, for the benefit of the whole group.

"_I_ like it." Orihime protests. "Are you calling me stupid?"

I was more than happy to see the Quincy turn bright red and not reply. Very few people can put that upstart in his place-I'm glad that Orihime is one of them.

"I think it's an awful idea." I hate to agree with Ishida, but I'm not in the mood for an amusement park that wasn't fun when I was nine, let alone fifteen.

"We'll take a vote." Chad, as always the voice of logic.

The voting goes something like this: Keigo and Rukia for, Orihime for, Tatsuki for after much begging, glaring, and persuading on part of the previous three, me against, Ishida against, Mizuiro against after a lot of dour looks from previous two-and then we all look at Chad. I'm thinking we're going to tie because he's going to vote against, and then we'll have to challenge each other to an Air Hockey game or something to decide, but the big kid lets out a rare smile and says, "Sorry, guys. I'm for it."

My fate is sealed.


	5. Tears

I wake up at five in the morning, excited despite myself, and my first thought is to dash into Ichigo's room and annoy him awake.

Then I remember that I can't do things like that anymore, so instead I lay back and stare at the ceiling. Karin is snoring and Yuzu is curled up in a ball, making small whimpering noises. It's kind of strange to be awake in a room of sleeping people. It's kind of strange to share a room with them, too; I've always slept alone, even when I was on the streets. It's a security thing. The first time I ever shared a room with another person was with Ichigo.

I miss him.

I hate that every time he sees me, his face tightens up like he's preparing for battle, and that he almost expects my silence now. He hasn't given up completely, but it's just a matter of time until he stops trying to talk to me at all. That will make me sad, but I can't do this. I can't pretend that I don't love him, so until I don't love him, I can't be around him. It's awful because aside from the love thing, I really like Ichigo as a person. We really were friends.

Now we're messed up, and it because of me.

I'm not getting back to sleep-and there's really no point-so I get up and creep out of the room. I suggested taking Yuzu and Karin with us, but nobody would have it, especially not Ichigo. "Besides," he had argued. "They're too old to be interested in some lame kids' park."

"And too young to go there for the irony!" Keigo had laughed. I guess this is something that "normal" teenagers do-try to relive their childhood or something. I never had a real childhood to begin with, so I'm more than a little excited about today's trip. Even its name, Animal Land, sounds cool. Apparently all the kids around here go there at least once when they're little, either on a school trip or with their families. On Saturdays and Sundays, anyone under eighteen can get in at half price. Ichigo gruffly told me last night that he'd pay for my ticket-I talked to him for the first time in a week, to say thank you. The way that his face almost lit up when I spoke to him stuck with me all night, and now comes back like a familiar ghost.

I feel so . . . guilty.

It's mean to just stop talking to somebody and not give them a reason, to make them think that they're the problem, to avoid them and ignore them and hurt them, especially when you live together. When you have to pretend in front of their family that everything's okay, only to go back to that silence in private. Ichigo's even been going out alone when he hunts Hollows-something that I know he had to have done in the time I was away, but still stings a little. He never even asked me. We just stopped doing it together. Yes, it's my fault, but-there's always a "but", always an afterthought or a comma; I can never just leave it at ".".

I pour cereal for breakfast, doing my best to be quiet on Isshin's one day off of the week. When I'm halfway through my bowl, Ichigo shuffles in, ever _not_ the morning person, sleepy-eyed, tousle-haired, still in his pajama pants as he yawns big enough to split his head in two and starts to rummage in the cupboard for a bowl of his own. "Morning." he grunts, probably not expecting an answer. I live up to his non-expectations, stirring my Lucky Charms and watching the marshmallows dissolve into colored milk.

Ichigo sits across from me, so I can't look anywhere but down at my bowl without making it obvious that I don't want to look at him. What am I kidding-it's obvious anyway.

"Guess you're pretty excited about going to the park." he says. It's painful, the awkward silence that follows, and I feel so bad for him, trying so hard. I keep waiting for him to get mad, but he just stubbornly keeps trying to engage me. When he stops, I'll be sad, but at least I won't feel so guilty. It's weird, but I would feel better if he just hurry up and hated me already, even though that's not my intent.

"I think you'll like it." Ichigo goes on. "Lots of cute, fluffy animals. Ugh. I, personally, hated it even as a kid-but I think it's right up your alley, Rukia."

I wish he wouldn't say my name. I wish he wouldn't say it so comfortably.

"There's one ride dedicated entirely to bunnies." I mean, he's being _nice_. He's _never_ nice; not to me, not to anyone. Not unless their parents just died or something awful like that happened-on a regular basis, Ichigo is pretty much a jerk. And obnoxious.

I list off more negative qualities about my friend inside my head, hoping that it'll get me to feel less guilty about blowing him off, but it doesn't help. It just makes me feel worse. There's nothing in the world that could get me to turn away from Ichigo-no bad temper, no scowly Mr. Grumpy face or inquisitive Orihime or trying to teach me something I don't want to learn. No amount of melty ice cream in the world could make me do it. And here I am, acting like he's my worst enemy over nothing.

It's almost enough to make me break, but then Ichigo sighs, a huff of frustration. "Look, I'm trying, here, Rukia. I'm trying to be a nice guy, understanding, even though I don't think I've done a fricking thing wrong. You know that you're annoying me, so quit it, okay? You can stop now-you got to me. Will you just ditch this whole silence thing, because it's driving me crazy!" he stands up, chair scraping against the floor, and dumps his bowl in the sink. He turns. Waits.

I stir my cereal. I've lost my appetite.

"Fine." Ichigo snaps. "Fine, if that's what you want. I tried. You go and live your life, Ru, and when you've gotten off your high horse, I won't be here waiting anymore. I'm sick of this."

he pauses, considers. Then says it.

"Either you tell me what the hell is going on, or be out of the house by tonight."

He leaves the room.

I stir my cereal.

I won't cry.

I stir my cereal, try to smile. If I smile now, then it'll be easier to fake later.

But I'm well and truly not with Ichigo anymore. I can't fake anything when he's not around.

It's pitiful, because today was supposed to be a happy day, but I break down and cry. Just for a little bit, and the fat tears that roll down without any further encouragement feel like a release. The relief of finally admitting that this is too much for me to handle is swallowed by the overwhelming feeling that nothing is ever going to be right in my mind again. I can't even begin to think of any future outside this moment, outside the absolute misery I feel because tomorrow I'm not going to be here. Tomorrow I will no longer have a home.

There's no one but myself to blame.

I pull myself together, taking a few deep breaths that actually make me feel better. I go to the sink and splash water on my face, cupping my hands to drink from the faucet. After what feels like forever, the hiccuping sobs die down to little gasping breaths, and then I can stop of my own volition. I can't think of tomorrow or even tonight without starting to feel panicky tears coming on again, so instead I focus on Animal Land. There's an underlying layer of heavy dread in my stomach that pulls at the edges of my thoughts and gives me the impression that I shouldn't even think about having fun today. I do my best to ignore it. Today I will have fun.

I will.

. . . really.

Ichigo and I leave the house together around seven, the silence between us uncomfortable and stiff. His face is hard, and we might as well be walking on different sides of the street, we're so far apart. When the school yard-where everyone decided we should meet up-comes into view, by unspoken agreement Ichigo and I move closer together. So far, no one has noticed anything odd. I guess we both want to keep it that way. I mean, what would we say if someone asked us what we were arguing about?

I feel the distance between Ichigo and I growing, even as the physical distance shrinks. When our hands brush-cliche, cliche, cliche-I flinch away. What's worse is that Ichigo doesn't seem to notice. He doesn't look at me at all.

And even though that's what I've been wanting, it still feels so cold, even on this day, which is promising to be another scorcher.

The sun is bright, crisp, new, as Ichigo and I make our way into the schoolyard. I'm wearing my-well, Yuzu's-favorite peach sundress and sandals, combined with a big floppy hat and a picnic basket full of goodies. Ichigo's in his usual jeans-and-t-shirt ensemble, but he switched to more casual flip-flops-which works, on him-and a ball cap. This is what's going through my mind as we join our friends; clothing and food, clothing and food. If I just keep on looking at the little details of this day-the way the sun hits Ichigo's hair and turns the bright orange to a bronze, or glints off of the silver ring on my pinkie toe-then everything looks okay, and I don't have to see the bigger picture.

"Yo." Tatsuki is the first to notice us, raising her hand in that non-wave thing that guys do a lot to be annoying. Ichigo nods back, King Of Cool style. I check the picnic basket to see if Kon sneaked in at the last minute; he did, but I pretend not to notice. I'm going to pretend a lot today, I can feel it.

"Woo! Check this out!" Keigo hollers. "My dad let me borrow his minivan!" He's standing on top of a green minivan, jumping up and down in a sporadic manner.

"I bet he wouldn't have if he knew you were going to do gymnastics on it!" Ichigo calls back, jogging over to join the guys gathered around the van trying to act like they know something about cars.

Orihime is holding a picnic basket similar to mine. She smiles and holds it up. "I guess we've got snacks covered."

"It's fine-the boys eat a lot." I say, then look around. "Where's Ishida?"

"I don't think he's coming, is he?" Tatsuki asks. "He doesn't strike me as the type to do something he doesn't want to."

"He'll come. He's lonely." Orihime says with certainty. Her best friend just shrugs. "If you say so."

"Well, I have something I think he'll like." I pull out Kon, who immediately stops struggling when sunlight hits him.

"So cute!" Orihime squeals.

"Why are you giving him a stuffed animal?" Tatsuki asks warily.

"I want him to sew the mouth shut." I say, and feel Kon wriggle a little. I give him a shake. "That way annoying stuff won't keep coming out."

"Oh, I know what you mean!" Orihime exclaims, and for a second my heart stops. Then she goes on. "I had this one pony once, and I wanted to give her a bit like real horses have-I used to love horses-so I cut open her mouth to put a bit in but then stuffing fell out all the time, and my brother. . ." she keeps going on like this until Tatsuki cuts her off with a hand on the arm. She smiles at me apologetically. "Orihime's a bit nervous. This is her first group date."

"It's not a date!" Orihime squeals.

"See?" Tatsuki says.

I smile. I miss my best friend. I miss someone knowing when I'm nervous and knowing what I'm thinking. I unconsciously glance at Ichigo-bad move, bad move!-to find that he's looking at me. I don't know which of us averts our eyes first; just that it's quick. Hazel eyes, just a flash of them, but I suddenly miss Karakura town before I've even left.

Ishida strolls into the playground as if he has all the time in the world, very much looking as though he wandered in by accident, and Orihime squeals in triumph, thrusting her basket at a startled Tatsuki and running to meet her friend. "You came! You came!" Everyone hears her shouting.

I smile again, and this time it doesn't fade. I wish I could be as unrestrained with my emotions. Watching Orihime tackle Ishida with a hug, overwhelming him with her babble as she fills him in on every single thing that happened to her since they last met, I wish more than anything that I could be like her. Just happy to be with her friends, loving towards everyone, not having to worry about her feelings hurting anybody. I'll bet it never occurs to her before she opens her mouth that saying the things she does has consequences-like that her behavior causes Ishida to have a hopelessly unrequited crush on her, or that her unabashed close relationships with the boys causes Tatsuki to have to daily get into fights with other girls who want revenge on Orihime(don't ask). She isn't stupid-she just didn't have to grow up, as I did, knowing that every word carries its weight, and every weight is a burden on someone's heart.

All of that aside, it's absolutely forbidden for a Soul Reaper to fall in love with a human. Another soul, well, that's worth a blind eye; another Reaper is fine, as well. But a human? Even if Ichigo isn't just a normal human-really, I don't know _what_ he is-in the eyes of the Soul Society, he's just a normal boy. That's the only reason he's here now, and not behind bars. Everywhere I turn, there's another reason why I can't feel the way I do.

And two reasons why I might never get over it.


	6. Hands

The ride to Animal Land is forty-five minutes too long for seven teenagers crammed into eight seats; especially since Chad takes up two by himself. Ishida has to sit on the floor between the middle seats, holding onto Tatsuki's and Orihime's arm rests, and Rukia winds up on my lap, in the back, since she's the smallest.

I'm still stewing from our non-fight this morning, but it's hard to stay mad at someone who is so obviously trying not to break down in tears. Rukia's face is hard as stone, but I know her. I can feel it in the way that her body is unconsciously shaking; can tell by the way she grips Tatsuki's headrest in both of her hands to keep herself from having to touch any more of me than my knees. My bad-ass attitude from this morning melts like crayons in a hot car, and I wrap my hands around her waist. Chad shoots me a look, like he's wondering why I'm choosing now to cop a feel, but I just shake my head at him. _This isn't what you think. _He looks away.

Rukia doesn't look at me, but for the first time in over a week she speaks to me without outside compunction.

"Don't touch me."

"Don't ignore me." I reply, running my fingers over her thighs. She flinches. "Ichigo!" It's a small van-everyone hears.

"No monkey business back there!" Keigo calls out. "Not until we've stopped, anyway." he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"You don't understand." Rukia hisses.

"Then make me!" I insist.

"You guys, seriously." Tatsuki says, not impressed. "We all can hear you."

"Please refrain from having your lovers' spat until a time when your foot isn't digging into my-" Ishida begins. The car suddenly swerves, and everyone lists to the right. "Sorry! Almost missed our turn!" Keigo sings out.

This is not reassuring.

I want to keep pressing Rukia, now that she can't duck into another room or pretend she's listening to music on my IPod, but the downsides of the confines of the car is that our private conversation won't be . . . well, private. So I shut up and keep my hands firmly on her hips, and as long as I don't speak, it seems that Rukia won't protest.

The journey seems to take forever.

I'm caught up in the lightness of the girl on my lap; she might as well be a child. Her sides move in and out as she breathes underneath my splayed fingers, and my hands are large enough-or she is small enough-that they span her hips and waist easily. My thumbs press into her lower back.

It's strange to focus so much on my hands, but I stare at them the whole ride. I never think much about them, but they do so much-everything from get me out of bed in the morning to hold the sword that has saved my life more times than I can count. Now they hold Rukia firmly in place, the only thing between her and a glass window if we crash. They act as a seatbelt, a lifeline, but beyond that they are reminding her every second that she can't be rid of me.

When we get to the park, everyone piles out; but I hold Rukia fast and don't get up. "Are you coming?" Orihime pokes her head back in after everyone's left. I must look pretty funny; actually, Rukia and I both probably look pretty funny, one on top of the other with all of the other seats empty and Rukia leaning as far away from me as possible. "We'll be along in a second." I tell her. "Be sure to get a good picnic table."

"Um-okay." she looks unsure, but she slides the van door closed anyway, and the noises of my friends talking dies down as they move far away from the car. When it's totally silent, I lift my hands reluctantly from Rukia's waist. She stumbles into the middle seats, but doesn't move to leave. Instead she perches in the seat that Orihime vacated, not looking at me.

"This is bull crap." I say, without preamble. "We both know that this is bull crap. When did things get so bad that you can't even take a car ride with me?"

Silence.

I am so sick of this damn silence.

"Rukia!" I bark, and, taken aback, she actually looks at me. Once our eyes meet, she bursts into tears. Oh, man. This is not going well.

"Wait-" I kneel by her seat clumsily, no idea what to do. I mean, come on-I'm a fifteen year old boy. What do I know about crying women? I awkwardly pat her arm, and she grabs my hand like it's a lifeline.

Hands, again. I remember Rukia's tongue on my hand, the last day that things were normal between us. Now, she presses her face into my hand like a child's, and I turn my palm into her face, cupping it, feeling the wet teardrops.

"Rukia-" I start, and gulp. This is foreign territory for me, and I'm not good at-and don't like to-navigating it. "Rukia, if there's something . . . if something is wrong, you know that-I mean, you can talk to me. Lord, I wish you'd talk to me." I snort, and then remember that I'm supposed to be being nice. "Anyway, whatever it is, we're a team, right? So . . . we should face it together."

"This is different." Rukia whispers. Inside, I'm elated-at least we're getting somewhere.

"It can't be that bad." I try for soothing, but still sound more punky than anything. Contradicting my somewhat abrasive words, I stroke her cheek with my thumb, my face going hot. I do not, do not, _do not_ want to be here right now. Not with Rukia all emotional and my own brain rebelling, telling me to do and say things totally out of my character, embarrassing, sappy, _awful_ things that I'll live to regret. Things like how much I miss her, and how I wish we could just take a giant step back to when she could look me in the eye without having a breakdown. I don't know how to fix this-I don't even know what's wrong. I only know that something _is_ wrong, and I don't think it's that she hates me. My anger(was I angry?)is gone, replaced by worry.

I'm thinking family crisis or deadly secret or impending bad news from Soul Society-wasn't the day things went wrong the day that her brother was visiting with Urahara about the Hogyoku? Maybe they lost it or something-?

Rukia pushes my hand away abruptly. "Ichigo, I-"

The van door slides open and Keigo pushes his head in. "You guys coming or what?" he says, boisterous. "The gates just opened-you're not gonna get tickets if you don't hurry up!"

I grab Rukia's hand and haul her up. "We're coming." And I'm not letting her out of my sight-if I can't figure out what's wrong with her today, then I'm going to have to follow through on my word and kick her out.

I really don't want to have to do that.

On the other hand, I can't keep living like this. I can't have my own best friend avoiding me like the plague. Don't I have enough crap to deal with already?


	7. Strays

_[A/N-This is kind of short, I know. Also, I couldn't resist giving the cat Ichigo's nickname. It's cheesy. But it amused me. I had a wicked lot of trouble trying to get Rukia and Ichigo to sound even a little in character, especially since Tite Kubo, wonderful though he is, doesn't do characters with very deep romantic attachments. Any kind of love scene with these two seems totally OOC . . . anyway, enough of my yammering-enjoy.]_

Animal Land is . . . amazing. I lack the words to fully describe it. Ichigo and the others aren't so impressed, as they've been here a "million times"(in their words), and think it's "getting run down". But I _love_ it, as Ichigo predicted. We ride giant spinning pandas and hopping high frogs; go on the Hamster Wheel roller coasters and slide through snake mazes. There are furry bunnies and happy bears everywhere I look-even the food is shaped like adorable animals. My favorite place is the petting zoo, where a mangy, long-legged barn cat immediately adopts me.

He springs into my arms when I squat down to pet him, rubbing his flea-ridden head against my chin. "Hey there, cutie." I coo, and he purrs in reply. He isn't very old, the supervisor tells me as she makes her rounds to feed the various farm animals out to be stroked. "We found him just yesterday, abandoned by the side of the road. Barely more than a kitten, he is, and no home to speak of." she says, dumping a box of kibble into the dog pen.

"Poor thing." I rub my nose against the cat's. "What's his name?"

"Hasn't got one." the supervisor moves on, losing interest in the conversation. I, however, sit on the ground for a good hour, playing with Berry-tan, as I name him, for his speckly orange and white coat.

The whole time, Ichigo is leaning on the fence surrounding the pen, watching me. I pretend that I don't feel his eyes on me, but my movements are self-conscious and clumsy, for the most part. I'm reluctant to leave my new friend when Ichigo calls that it's time for lunch, so I go to the supervisor and ask if I can take the cat with me.

"I guess." she says, doubt plain on her features. "We let him roam through the park where he wants. Just don't abuse him." she looks at me, assessing. "Naw. You won't. But be responsible."

"Okay!" I squeal, scooping up Berry and hugging him close. He yowls in protest and I loosen my hold; for some reason, he seriously reminds me of Ichigo.

At least the cat, I think as I make my way to the picnic tables, I can pat to my heart's desire.

Lunch is hot dogs rolled in bacon and things on sticks, along with the cookies and cakes that I brought along and some lemonade acquired by the boys through mysterious and unquestioned means. After eating, everyone splits up to re-ride their favorite attractions before the park's early closing at three. Ichigo follows me as I reluctantly return Berry to the petting zoo.

When I try to put him down, it's like Berry senses that I'm going to leave. He hisses and claws at me, hurting me. "Ow!" I involuntarily squeak. "Stop that!" I scold. I've known the cat for two hours, and already I'm convinced that he's smarter than most humans.

"Berry-tan, I have to go. You live here, and I live elsewhere."

I'm far too aware of Ichigo hovering behind me, and try to not associate my conversation with a cat to the problems I'm having in real life. There's a funny similarity, though. "You'll be fine here." I soothe, keeping my voice even. "Now you have to let go, or you'll make me cry."

Berry hisses again, and digs his claws into the skirt of my dress. Ichigo reaches over my shoulder and picks up the cat by the scruff of his neck. "This is the most pathetic creature I have ever seen." he informs me. "He looks like you just picked him up off of the street."

"I seem to have a way with troublemakers." I say dryly, then kick myself. With Ichigo so casually talking to me, it's hard to not automatically respond.

"He does look like trouble." Ichigo muses. "Got fleas, too. You sure know how to pick'em."

"It's not my fault he attached himself to me." I say, petulantly, and give up on silence altogether. Looks like I'm talking to Ichigo again-that didn't last long.

Ichigo lowers the cat into my arms. "Maybe you should keep him."

I snort. "And what? Let him live in your closet? Besides, the park probably won't let me take him-he belongs here."

"What about what he wants?" he counters.

"It's not about what he wants." I argue. "It's about what's best for him."

"Are we talking about the cat, or me?" Ichigo asks, point blank. I look away.

"Is that what this is about?" he goes on. "You're getting all up-in-arms because you have to leave, and this is your way of breaking it to me?"

"I'm not leaving." I say. "Unless you're seriously kicking me out."

Ichigo sighs. "No, I'm not kicking you out-but don't think I'm going to let you go back into your si-"

I glare up at him, and he cuts himself off. "Look, just take the cat." he says. "No one's gonna care."

"There are people who care about him." I don't know why we're arguing about a stupid feline, except that it's easier to talk about than what's really going on. "They'd miss him."

"So come to the park to visit him."

"I can't stay here. Eventually, I'll have to leave." Now I'm really not talking about Berry. "Eventually, I'll have to go back to where I come from."

"And? What's wrong with being friends in the meantime?"

"Because I feel more than friendship!" I blurt out.

Ichigo gives me a weird look. "Are you confessing your love for a cat?"

"No, I'm talking about you!" I'm so used to arguing with Ichigo, I say it before thinking. I say it before really knowing what I'm saying. Then my brain catches up; my mouth clamps shut, and I'm sure my face is the same color as Berry's coat. "Shit. Forget I said that."

"Ru-"

I shake my head. "I can't stay. I can't." I insist. "And I can't do this-I can't be in love with you, Ichigo." It's amazing how calmly I can say it. How honest I can be while saying things that make my heart ache. "Besides the fact that I'd get exiled from Soul Society, and besides the fact that you're a living human and I'm not-the fact remains that I am going to leave one day. And if I'm not in love with you, then I don't have to be heartbroken when that happens."

I put Berry-tan on the ground; and, as if sensing my mood, he lets me release him. There isn't anything left to say, really. I square my shoulders and turn to Ichigo. "So. That's why I was ignoring you. I'm trying not to love you any-"

"Bull crap!" he exclaims. His face is a little pink, but he's scowling like usual. "Trying not to love me? What kinda whacked out-I mean, jeez, you can't _force_ yourself to feel or not feel!" he shakes his head. "It sounds to me like you're just afraid of being hurt. Like you're being a _coward_." He's trying to goad me, I know he is; trying to get me mad so that I'll go back to normal, so that I won't leave or be silent and he can pretend that the world's all perfect.

I won't take the bait.

But I'm _not_ a coward.


	8. Love?(last chapter)

Rukia glares up at me, incensed. "It isn't your business what I feel or how I go about feeling it." she informs me. That mangy cat winds itself around her ankles, and she impatiently shakes him off. "I just don't want anyone getting hurt, that's all!" she cries.

"Like I said, you're being a coward!"

"So, are you telling me it's okay to love you?" she challenges.

There's no good answer to that question. I'm not sure how I feel about Rukia-certainly strongly, but-? I don't know. I know I love her, that she's my best friend, and that lately I've been reacting strangely to her, but that's not the basis of a romantic relationship.

Heck, I don't _want_ a romantic relationship.

Still, I'm not going to call Rukia a coward for not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings and then go walking on eggshells around the one person I've always been brutally honest with. "Yes. I am."

She flushes. Very prettily, I might add. "That doesn't solve anything."

"You're making a mountain out of a molehill." I inform her. "I doubt Soul Society gives a damn who loves who, as long as you do your fricking job properly-which, let me say, you do. I think you're just looking for excuses because you're . . ." I trail off, unsure.

"I'm what?" Rukia's in a petulant mood now, arms folded, shoulders drawn in.

"Scared!" I blurt out. "You're scared, just like every other girl with a crush, only unlike them you have a whole civilization of dead people to blame your insecurities on-"

Rukia slaps me-hard-and runs off. I bring my hand up to my face, wincing, as Berry looks between me and where Rukia went and meows, as if he actually understands what's going on. That's great, because I sure don't.

Rukia is in love with me.

It's such a strange thought. I always saw Rukia as a sort of older sister, a teacher; almost a mother at times. The thought of her being in love with anyone seems ridiculous, and yet-if it was anyone, I guess I'd want it to be me, now that I'm thinking about it. I've always wanted her looking only at me-is that love? I always assumed it was vanity, wanting her to be proud of me. Wanting her to admit that I've surpassed her-isn't that a normal feeling for a student to have?

When Rukia became my friend, she filled a part of my life that was lacking; she saved me, taught me how to be a hero, how to be important. Is that love? I've noticed her, when I notice no other girls, but is that just because she's always around? Wanting her to talk to me, wanting to teach her how to swim and buy her ice cream and see her face light up when she spots a ride dedicated entirely to bunnies-is that love? It could just be friendship, but I can't deny any longer that the bond we have is very, very deep. I can't imagine dating another girl while remaining so close to Rukia. I can't imagine dating another girl, period. She's the only girl I really feel close to, the only one I can imagine trusting with the parts of me too dark to share with anyone else.

I guess that's love.

I feel a little like a moron, actually. I never thought about love and stuff like that before, but still I'd think I'd _know_ if I was in love with a person. I guess I was to busy focusing on everything else going on in my life to consider it, and, if I'm honest, I still don't want a girlfriend. I don't want to have to go out of my way to set up fancy dates and special gifts, to deal with the emotional drama and just start acting totally different to please some girl.

But Rukia isn't just some girl, and we don't have to have that kind of relationship. I can't imagine her demanding some big celebration for our three-month anniversary or getting all ticked off because I didn't call when I was supposed to. And haven't we been going on "dates" all along?

I don't know-I don't have it all figured out-but I know that I can't just let Rukia run away and think that she has to ruin the whole life she has here because of some feelings. Even if we grow to hate each other, she shouldn't have to lose her friends and life here because of that. She shouldn't have to choose between the two.

I scoop up Berry-tan and dash after my friend.

Ichigo catches up to me about ten minutes after I rashly stormed out of the petting zoo. His hand on my shoulder is the first thing I feel; the next is his mouth against mine. It's hot and arrogant and just like him; unquestioningly forcing its way into my tongue the way he unconsciously forced himself into my heart.

When he pulls back, we're both a little out of breath. A squashed-looking Berry-tan blinks warily at me from his position cradled in Ichigo's arm. He holds the cat out to me. "He missed you. And he says that he'll never forgive you if you don't adopt him here and now."

I take the cat, and then tackle Ichigo with a hug. "The cat or you?" I mumble into his shoulder. He puts one arm around me, not to be seen hugging a girl in public, ever the tough guy, and pats my back, his eyes on the ground. "The cat, you idiot."

He dips his head, lips brushing my ear so that none of the families walking around us(with properly stunned or scandalized faces)hear what he says next. "You don't have a choice about getting me, sweetheart. I'll come if I feel like it."

"And? Do you feel like it?" I ask, smiling. He shrugs and steps back, out of my arms. Berry purrs gratefully and climbs up onto my shoulders, making a big point of sniffing the air as if glad to not be being suffocated anymore.

"We'll see. Now how about the Bunny Hop, again?"

Just as he says this, a gender-neutral voice blares through the intercom- "ANIMAL LAND WILL NOW BE CLOSING. PLEASE GATHER YOUR CHILDREN AND MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE EXIT."

I sigh. "Well, there's always next time."

"Next time?" Ichigo looks positively alarmed.

"Yes, next time." I tell him. "You know, when you take me here on our date." I beam up at him.

"I'm going to regret this." he grumbles. I take his hand and swing it happily as we make our way to the exit. The skip is back in my step. I'm still afraid-I still have a lot of misgivings-but I'm with Ichigo again, so it's just that simple to forget all of my worries and smile.

I guess I shouldn't have tried to stop this in the first place.

I dare to believe that everything is going to be okay.

Especially when Ichigo pulls me behind a Polar Bear Ice Cream stand to kiss me again.

**The end. I guess. ^.^**


End file.
